bound by darkness

when the darkness calls.

Part One: When the Darkness Calls

The crisp September air bit at your skin as you stepped off the Hogwarts Express, the familiar sight of the castle looming against the darkening sky. Hogwarts had always been a place of contradictions for you-a sanctuary of magic and learning, yet a breeding ground for secrets and shadows. This year, the weight of the summer's events clung to you like a second skin, invisible to the others but suffocating all the same.

You adjusted your cloak as your cousin, Draco Malfoy, sauntered up beside you, a sly grin tugging at his lips. He looked the same as always-confident, cold, untouchable-but there was a flicker of curiosity in his silver eyes as he glanced your way.

"Well, don't you look different," Draco said, his voice dripping with that signature Malfoy arrogance. "Summer's been... transformative, hasn't it?"

You rolled your eyes, brushing past him without a response. He wasn't wrong. You'd matured in ways you couldn't quite put into words, but the change wasn't just physical. The carefree spark you once had was buried beneath layers of grief and nights blurred by firewhisky and other questionable remedies.

"Don't mind him." A familiar voice drawled to your left. Mattheo Riddle, dark-haired and dark-eyed, leaned casually against the carriages waiting to take you to the castle. His smirk was lazy, his demeanor effortlessly cool, but there was something sharper in the way his eyes trailed you, as though he could see the cracks beneath your surface. "Draco's just mad you're not hanging on his every word."

"Shove it, Riddle," you muttered, but your lips betrayed you with the hint of a smile.

Later that night, when the stars hung low and the castle's lights flickered in the distance, the party by the lake was already in full swing. Music thumped faintly from enchanted speakers, and the air was thick with laughter, smoke, and the scent of something stronger than pumpkin juice.

Your usual group had claimed a spot near the edge of the water. Draco and Blaise were deep in conversation, no doubt scheming something, while Pansy and Astoria swayed to the music, their glasses of firewhisky never far from hand. Theo and Lorenzo were off to the side, arguing over a spell gone wrong, their laughter breaking the tension of the night.

And then there was Mattheo, sitting cross-legged on the grass, a cigarette dangling from his fingers, the ember casting a faint glow on his sharp features. He caught your gaze as you approached, patting the space next to him.

"Surprised you made it," he said, his voice low, almost teasing.

You sank down beside him, letting the noise and chaos swirl around you. "Had to make an appearance. Can't let you lot have all the fun."

"Fun," he repeated, his smirk deepening. "Is that what we're calling it these days?"

You didn't respond. Instead, you tilted your head back to look at the stars, their light flickering faintly above the treetops. For a moment, you let yourself forget the weight of the summer, the ghosts that clung to you, and the demons you were still learning to face.

The music shifted, the laughter grew louder, and the night stretched on, but the silence between you and Mattheo spoke volumes. You weren't sure where this year would take you, but one thing was certain-when the darkness called, you'd answer.